The Vigil
by milford
Summary: Charlies thoughts as Don lies injured.


The Vigil

by Milford

Characters don't belong to me unfortunately and no profit is being made. Story is for entertainment only. This is a stand alone although I've got the option of continuing. But for the time being this is what I wanted to write.

Special thanks to a great friend for her friendship and encouragement. She knows who she is!

Hospitals. How he hated them. Statistically thinking…no, Charlie shook his head mentally. He wasn't going to go there. For the first time in his life, he fought against the numbers clamoring around in his mind and tried to concentrate on the present, however painful it was. It was indeed painful watching the steady rise and fall of his brother's chest as he lay in the hospital bed, and watching the shattered and exhausted expression on their father's face as he sat in vigil next to his eldest son. It was very difficult not taking refuge in what was his "safe" place – the world of numbers and calculations. It was a very controlled and precise place to hide out, far away from uncertainty and doubts and pain. Why did people wonder why he chose to hide in his nice little mathematical world? It made perfect sense to him. But now wasn't the time to do it, and he really wasn't sure he wanted to know what the odds were for his brother, even though his instinct was to work out the statistics. Statistics were something he could understand, something he could grasp. But as he stood there watching his brother's struggle, and their father's pain, a long ago discussion he'd had with his father came to him.

"Charlie, not everything is about numbers. You can't predict everything to a certainty and neither can you expect life to conform to your expectations all the time, just because you think you have the numbers. Life simply isn't that predictable."

No, Dad, I guess we can't predict everything. I never would have predicted Don being hit by some drunk driver in an attempt to save me. Charlie shuddered at the memory. It was a day he'd never forget.

---  
"Come on, Charlie, we're already running late," Don pleaded with him to hurry up. But Charlie had been distracted by a problem he'd been working on and not quite ready to go home.

"Okay, Don, but can't I just…?"

"No! Dad will kill us. He asked us to pick him up on time. You know he hates being late for Aunt Irene." Irene was their cantankerous aunt, their mother's sister, and they all went to her place for a meal once a month. Charlie had very little patience for her, but Don sort of understood why their father kept going. After all, she was their mother's sister although she bore little resemblance to their mother. Although he too grew frustrated with her cranky demands on them, he tried to remain patient for their father's sake. Charlie couldn't be bothered most of the time, and on this particular night it seemed even more of a chore than usual. He never liked being taken away from his work and much preferred working with his numbers to eating with a difficult relative. But at Don's pleading, he gave in and closed his book.

"Okay, let's go." Charlie sighed resignedly and stood up. He locked his office and the two men walked out of the building together.

Don walked faster, hoping that he could still make up the lost time. He wasn't really angry but he was slightly frustrated with Charlie's stubbornness. It was a lifelong issue dealing with his genius brother, but on this occasion he just hoped they could get to Aunt Irene's in time.

"Oh Don, I left my notes on my desk, I've got to get them," Charlie called out.

"CHARLIE!" Don yelled, his frustration increasing tenfold.

"I won't be long, I promise." Charlie turned and ran back into the building. It always happened when someone tried to rush him, he ended up leaving something behind and on this occasion he was going to go back and get it. Grabbing the book he resisted the temptation to open it until he got to the door of the building. There was something about the equation…if only….despite his intentions, he started reading through his notes. Already immersed in the problem, he paid little attention to where he was going. Don watched him walking out, amusement battling with annoyance again as he saw Charlie's concentration once again become focused on his endless equations. But what he saw next wiped all amusement from him. A car was driving wildly around the parking lot and to his horror it started to head towards his absent-minded brother who was about to step off the kerb.

"CHARLIE!" Don's shouting only just penetrated Charlie's consciousness. But there was a note in his voice which caused him to look up reluctantly. The next few moments were a blur to him as he felt the full force of something barreling into him and knocking him down. He was unaware initially that it was his brother's weight which bore into him. He was only aware of the fact he was lying on his back, stunned and dazed, with the sound of a car speeding away. What on earth? Charlie looked up, his back aching from hitting the ground. Shocked and stunned by the impact it took him a couple of seconds for the terrible realization of what had happened to filter through. He looked around to see, to his horror, his brother lying unconscious on the ground. He crawled over to him and with a shaking hand touched Don's forehead. Blood, there was blood, and Don showed no signs of consciousness. Voices were calling around him but he paid no attention. He was focused totally on his injured brother.  
--  
No, Dad, I guess you were right, life isn't predictable. But what if I worked this out, worked out the timing? Would I have known that my delaying leaving the office would have this result? Despite his innate and constant belief in numbers, Charlie wasn't sure he really wanted to know. The guilt could kill him. He knew he did want to hide, P versus NP seemed to be calling him again, the lure of the mysterious and elusive problem which summoned him at times of great stress, but on this occasion he knew he couldn't go. A combination of guilt, love and fear held him firmly in place. Somehow he had to focus and to be there for his father and brother. It wasn't about statistics or numbers, it was about how strong his brother was and whether he could survive the horrific injuries. Charlie's logical and methodical mind was demanding something more  
concrete, something he could grasp, but there was nothing. He didn't want to look closely at the statistics. If he did, then he'd have to realize Don should be dead – again. How many times could he survive these incidents? Everything that Charlie could understand related to numbers and odds. But his brother seemed to constantly defy them. Thank God. Charlie shook his head, trying to hold back the despair and overwhelming guilt which was threatening to swallow him.

The human element…somehow he recalled something Larry had tried to tell him. Or had it been Larry? He couldn't remember. Was it this human element which kept Don alive when he should be dead? It was insane that such a senseless act as a drunk driver could cost his brother his life. His FBI Special Agent brother, who spent many of his days in, if not actually dangerous situations, then at the very least situations which had the potential to turn deadly. Maybe it would be easier to accept if Don had been injured in the line of duty; certainly the heavy weight of guilt wouldn't be on him, trying to crush him. But he wouldn't feel any better. He loved and admired his brother and always had, even though their younger years had been spent at odds.

For the first time in his life, Charlie tried to imagine what it had been like for Don growing up with his younger brother exceeding him academically and even graduating at the same time, and demanding everyone's attention constantly. Despite the tension, he'd never really thought about it before and he knew he'd been very lucky to have Don. Despite the resentment he must have felt, Don had always been there for him – protecting him from school bullies, from himself when he wanted to retreat from the world, and most of all, just accepting him for who he was.

Had he done the same? He'd always loved him and he wanted to believe he'd helped Don, but the reality was he probably hadn't. Don was such a strong, independent type and never leaned on anyone. Hell, he hadn't even known Don had been engaged and he still knew painfully little about his life before he returned to LA. Did his preoccupation with his work mean Don assumed he didn't care? It seemed too painful to bear and he made a promise to himself to change.

Certainly things had improved since they started working together and their relationship had strengthened. He saw Don as strong and dependable, good-natured and compassionate. Sometimes he wondered how he survived as an FBI agent and dealing with the things he had to. But he seemed to survive, getting stressed at times but always bouncing back and prepared to accept whatever life brought along. Charlie found himself envious of that aspect of Don's personality, for he knew he certainly didn't share that acceptance. He was often impatient and grew frustrated with people and events. The one thing he believed in completely was numbers, and the rest of the world often seemed impossible to deal with and he didn't want to bother. Most of the time he'd be quite happy to be left to his own devices to work on equations and problems, just coming out for food occasionally, and, of course, interaction with his brother and father. Numbers never did hurt him, and never let him down. If they didn't add up, it was his fault, not theirs, and he knew how to handle that. Numbers were easy to deal with, always. He knew he'd let Don and his dad down by hiding out during their mother's illness but he'd been unable to watch, completely unable to. The pain had been all consuming and he sought the comfort of the familiarity of numbers.

Even now, as he watched the machine breathing for Don, he had to fight against his instinct which was to run and hide. But he'd never forgiven himself over his mother and he wouldn't make the same mistake again, however hard it was to stand by and watch his usually strong and able brother struggle for life and their father's devastated expression as he sat next to Don's bed, holding his hand and talking to him. He walked up to his father and gently squeezed his shoulder. Alan looked up at the touch and the expression in his eyes gave Charlie the strength he needed to stay. Pulling up a chair, he sat down next to him to start the long wait for Donnie to wake up.


End file.
